


there's a feeling (in the air)

by jessicawhitly



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Holidays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: A collection of Christmas/holiday-themed prompts centering mostly around Joyce/Hopper and the Hopper-Byers fam.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Jim "Chief" Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Jonathan Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper
Comments: 22
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This my attempt to do a drabble-a-day following a Christmas/holiday-themed prompt list! Mostly they'll be Joyce/Hopper, but more than likely will also include the Hopper-Byers fam, Max, and Jonathan/Nancy. Title is from Silver Bells.

“But it’s tradition, Hop!” Joyce called from the bathroom before poking her head back into the bedroom.

“It’s a Saturday off, Joyce- we really have to trek through the snow to cut our own tree? Can’t we get one from the guy selling ‘em in the grocery store parking lot?” Hopper asks from where he’s sitting on the end of their bed, doing up the buttons of his flannel shirt.

“The boys love picking out their own tree, and I’m sure El will love it too,” Joyce comes to stand in the v of his legs, doing the last button for him as she pouted out her bottom lip. “And Max has been down ever since Thanksgiving, she needs a good day outside with her friends. Please?”

Hopper heaved a sigh, hands coming up to grip her hips lightly, kneading with his thumbs.

“Alright. Guess we’re going to pick out a Christmas tree today,” he relents, his own lips quirking upwards when Joyce’s face broke out into a grin.

“I’ll go tell the kids to dress warmly,” she replies, leaning forward to kiss him quickly before ducking out of the room and leaving Hopper shaking his head fondly.

An hour later the four kids were bundled up, Max in one of Joyce’s old coats over her own ragged one. The group piled into Hopper’s truck while Joyce directed Hopper to the nearest tree farm, about half an hour outside of Hawkins.

A sign for Tim’s Tree Farm greeted them at the entrance, and Hopper pulled into the nearly-full parking lot with lifted eyebrows.

“Guess everyone wanted to get their tree today,” he remarks, and Joyce squeezes his bicep, face bright.

“The back right corner always has the best trees,” Will tells them as they all get out of the truck, pointing in the direction he meant. “I think we should look there first.”

“Good idea,” Jonathan says, nudging his head slightly and grabbing the saw from the truck bed. “Lead the way, kid.”

Max and El linked arms, following behind the two boys, while Joyce and Hopper took up the rear, gloved hands linked. The snow continued to fall steadily, drifting around them in large, puffy flakes that settled on their heads and shoulders.

“This one?” El asked, pointing to a tall tree; Max left her side to walk around it, coming back shaking her head.

“There’s a huge patch in the back. Not ideal if you want to hang any ornaments,” she tells the brunette, who sighed and continuing trudging through the snow. Joyce tugged on Hopper’s arm, pulling him along faster as the kids moved deeper into the trees.

“This one!” Will pointed to a tall tree, and Hopper shook his head.

“Too tall, kid. Won’t fit in the living room,” he tells Will, who groans but moves on anyway.

“Hey guys- over here!” they all turn at the sound of Jonathan’s call, a few feet away- he’s standing beside what could objectively be called the perfect tree, a proud grin on his face.

“Oh, honey, it’s perfect!” Joyce said, gripping his arm and grinning. The tree is about eight feet tall, full branches and the perfect top branch to settle the tree topper on.

“Yeah, good job,” Max tells him, nudging into him, and Jonathan beams, wrapping one arm around her and the other around Will.

“Seems like we have a consensus that this is the tree,” Hopper says, and everyone nods. He takes the saw from Jonathan and then kneels in the snow, sinking down until he was laying on his stomach and could reach the trunk of the tree.

After a few minutes of cutting his yell of “Incoming!” has them all stepping backward as the tree fell at their feet. Hopper sawed the trunk evenly one it was detached, and then stood, wiping a hand over his face.

“Four of you should be able to pull that back to the truck easily,” he tells them, breathless, and Joyce hid a laugh in her hands as the kids groaned, but took up their positions to drag it through the snow.

“Can we get hot chocolate?” Will asks as they near the parking lot, and Joyce nods.

“Wouldn’t be a trip to the tree farm without it, right?” she replies, and receives four pink-cheeked grins in response. Joyce takes the kids into the café while Hopper pays for the tree and got it wrapped before settling it in the bed of the truck.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Hopper joins them in the corner booth they’d chosen, sinking down beside Joyce and taking the cup she offers him.

“I got you coffee,” she tells him, and he squeezes her thigh gratefully under the table.

“Can we decorate when we get home?” Will asks, and El nods eagerly, looking at her parents.

“Please?” she asks, then mirrors Max’s position with her hands tucked under her chin. Joyce smothers a snort, shaking her head at them fondly.

“I think we can manage that,” she answers, and Will and El high-five over the table. “And obviously you’re staying for dinner, Max.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” the redhead starts, and Joyce waves her words away.

“That’s why I didn’t ask, I told you,” Joyce replies, and Hopper leans against the table, stage-whispering.

“I wouldn’t argue with her.”

Max ducks her head, hiding a smile.

“Alright kids, finish up,” Hopper says, and all the kids obediently put their styrofoam cups to their mouths.

In the truck on the drive home, Joyce slides closer to Hopper, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she settled her head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for trudging through the snow to get a tree today,” she murmurs, and Hopper squeezed her knee.

“Don’t tell the kids, but it was actually pretty fun,” he replies, and Joyce turned her face into his shoulder, hiding a grin. “It was good to see all the kids smile for a change.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, lips curving upwards into a smile at the sight of the four kids in the backseat deep in discussion.

“It’s going to be a good Christmas this year. I just know it,” Joyce said, and Hopper nodded, turning his head to brush his lips against his forehead.

“With you in charge? I don’t doubt it.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is Hopper & Max because I just love them.

“Aren’t you cold in that?” Hop looks up at the voice from behind him, lifting an eyebrow as Max joined him on the front porch. He glances down at himself- he hadn’t put a coat on to finish twining the lights around the front step’s banisters, so he was just in a thick thermal with a flannel shirt atop it.

“Nah. I don’t really get cold,” he tells her, wrapping another stretch of wood with colored lights. “Where’s your hat?”

“In the wash. It was soaked after the snowball fight we had,” the redhead shrugs, her breath puffing out in a white cloud. “Do you need any help?”

Hopper regards her for a minute before he nods, beckoning her over.

“You finish this side, I’ll start the other one,” he tells her, and Max beams, bounding over and taking the string of lights from his hands. Hopper moved to the other bannister, starting to wind the light strings around the wood while watching Max out of the corner of his eye, unable to hold back the smile at the sight of her, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Are there more lights?” Max asks eagerly once they’re both finished, nearly bouncing in anticipation as Hopper smirks in amusement.

“No more lights, but Joyce bought some inflatable thing for the yard, if you want to help me set that up,” he says, and the redhead nods vigorously.

They dig the box out of the garage and pull out the mess of brown and white and red plastic, hauling it into the yard and dumping it in the light covering of snow that had gathered the night before.

“We’re gonna need an extension cord,” Max says as she holds the yard decoration’s small power cord in her hands, an eyebrow lifted. Hopper smothers a snort, nodding.

“Should be one in the garage,” he starts, and Max is already off like a shot.

“I’ll find it!” she calls over her shoulder, and Hopper shakes his head fondly, starting to tug at the deflated plastic to stretch it out for easier inflation once it was plugged in.

After a few minutes Max emerges from the garage, a long, wrapped circle of orange cord in her hands and a proud grin on her face.

“Sorry it took so long, the garage is a _mess_ ,” she informs him, and Hopper rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know kid. I already have Joyce on my back about it, don’t you start on me too,” he replies, and Max lets out a laugh, giving him one end of the cord and unwinding it until she was next to the outdoor outlet, under the kitchen window. “Alright, let’s plug it in and see what happens.”

Max bends, plugging the extension cord in and turning to watch with wide, excited eyes. Slowly, air fills the thing until it starts to puff up, and the mass becomes Santa and his reindeer-led sleigh.

“Whoa, cool!” Max says, clapping her hands in excitement as the lawn decoration reaches full height, lights within twinkling in a pattern.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Hopper replies, and the redhead rolls her eyes. They make their way back up the front porch, and Max drops her gaze to her boots, kicking at a loose piece of ice.

“Thanks for letting me help,” she murmurs, and Hopper wraps an arm around her shoulders, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

“You guys have been out here awhile- I’ve got some hot chocolate to warm you up,” Joyce’s voice causes them both to turn, and her smile is soft. “Look at how festive the house looks now! Thanks for keeping him on target, Max.”

Max beams when Joyce winks at her, cheeks turning pink at the warm attention.

“Are there marshmallows?” she asks, and Joyce nods; she steps aside when Max headed into the warmth of the house, and then comes to join Hopper, shivering at the cold.

“You should have a coat on,” she pokes his chest with a finger before she burrowed into his side, his arms coming up to wrap around her.

“Didn’t think I was gonna be out here very long,” he answers honestly, shrugging. “But Max wanted to help, and it was nice to see her excited about decorating. Seems like she doesn’t get to do any at home.”

Joyce frowned, but let out a sigh and laid her head against his chest. Hopper pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing his hands over her back to warm her with the friction.

“C’mon- that hot chocolate’s callin’ my name.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will in fact have Joyce become a nurse in every au verse I write, thank you very much.

Joyce sighed heavily as she looked at the clock for the fifteenth time in half an hour.

She’d signed on to take the evening Christmas Eve shift in the ER because of the time and a half overtime pay, and because it was the first Christmas Jonathan wouldn’t be home for. Between taking a winter semester class and his job at a photography lab in the city, he’d said it wouldn’t make sense to travel home for two days before he’d have to return.

Joyce understood- she did. She was happy Jonathan was building a life for himself, and that he’d adjusted so well to living so far away. But Christmas just didn’t feel quite the same without the entire family all together.

When she’d left just after lunch El, Max, and Robin had been deep into baking cookies, while Will, Mike, Hopper, and Steve were finishing up trimming the tree and decorating the outside of the house. She’d been promised a full Christmas Eve feast when she got off work, which had already smelled promising from its place in the oven.

Tapping her pen, Joyce looked out at the empty waiting room; at this point everyone in Hawkins was likely either settled in for Christmas Eve mass, or gathered around their kitchen table for dinner. A slight twinge of guilt fills her, for not being at home, but she pushes it down.

The front doors swish open, and Joyce looks up expectantly- her face softens at the sight of Hopper, dusting snow off his coat.

“What are you doing here? Are the kids okay?” she asks, peeking worriedly around him for an injured teenager, and Hopper just shakes his head, coming over to touch her forearms gently.

“Kids are fine- Robin knows how to cook, she’s claimed territory over the kitchen and practically shoved me out once the ham was done,” he tells her, fondness shading his expression. Joyce grinned, nose scrunching up.

“Then why are you here? I have another hour before the overnight nurse relieves me,” she reminds him, and Hopper juts his chin over her shoulder. Joyce turns, eyes widening at the sight of her coworker smiling at her.

“Get outta here, Joyce. Go spend Christmas Eve with your family,” Linda tells her, waving her towards the door. “This is place is dead, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Joyce asks, double checking, and Linda nods, rolling her eyes fondly.

“ _Go_ , Joyce,” she repeats, and Joyce breaks out into a grin, laughing softly.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” she pulls her coat and purse off of the chair behind her, shrugging into it with Hopper’s help. “Merry Christmas, Linda!”

The blonde nurse repeats the sentiment back, smiling at them as Hopper tugs her towards the doors.

“C’mon- I got you a present,” he tells her, and Joyce lifts an eyebrow.

“If that present is sex in the car I’m gonna raincheck you, it’s freezing,” she replies, and Hopper smothers a snort, shaking his head.

“Just follow me,” he says, pulling her through the doors; Joyce shivers as a blast of cold air hits them in the face.

“Hop, it’s cold,” she whines, shivering again- then a voice from her right caused her head to shoot up.

“Still warmer than New York,” Jonathan says, smirking as he watched Joyce’s face light up. “Hey, Mom.”

“Jonathan? But I thought you were staying in the city?” Joyce said, crossing the icy parking and throwing her arms around her eldest son and squeezing tightly. “Oh but I’m so happy to see you!”

“It was all Hop. He got me a flight home this morning so I could be here for Christmas,” Jonathan tells her, squeezing her back. “Beats the pizza I was gonna have for dinner by myself tonight.”

Joyce looks over at Hopper, a trembling smile curving her lips.

“You did this?” she asks, and he shrugs modestly.

“I knew how down you were about Jonathan not being home. Figured there was only one way to fix that,” he answers, and Joyce reaches for his hand, squeezing with her fingers tightly.

“This is the _perfect_ Christmas present,” she murmurs, voice thick with tears.

“Come on- no tears on Christmas,” Jonathan teases her lightly, pulling a laugh from his mother. “I hear there’s a feast at home waiting for us.”

“Will’s gonna be so excited to see you,” Joyce tells Jonathan as they piled into the truck, and Jonathan smiles.

“Yeah, I missed him a little bit too,” Jonathan says fondly, and Joyce beamed at him from the front seat.

Joyce slid closer to Hopper, twining her fingers through his and tracing over his knuckles with her fingertips. She lifted it to her lips, kissing the back of it gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Now it really feels like Christmas.”

Hopper turned his head slightly, kissing her forehead and letting his lips linger there while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max just perpetually lives at the Hopper-Byers in my head because both Joyce and I love that little redhead. Also, sorry for the delay, and that I have sucked at the chapter a day thing- I sprained my back and have not felt much like writing, so you will be getting holiday fic beyond the holiday!

“Max, honey, I think you’re gonna be stuck here for a little while,” Joyce’s comment pulls the redhead’s attention from the bowl of cereal she was digging into, a question on her face. “It looks like it snowed all night, and still hasn’t stopped.”

“I’ll drive you home this afternoon, if the roads are a bit clearer,” Hopper adds, refilling his coffee mug. “Or I’ll just take you home tomorrow. It’s only Saturday.”

“Sleepover!” El cheered, and Max took her flailing hands in her own, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” she looks at Joyce and Hopper, who both nod.

“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” Joyce reminds her, and Max cheeks flush pink.

“We can have a snowball fight later, if it stops snowing!” Will suggests, and Max’s nose crinkled.

“I’ve never had one before,” she says with a shrug, and both Will and El’s eyes widen.

“What do you mean, you’ve never had a snowball fight?” Will asks, and Max shrugs again.

“We never lived anywhere with snow before Hawkins,” she answers, and it’s Jonathan that claps her shoulder on his way to the coffee pot.

“Well, looks like you’re having your first snowball fight today then,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Think you can handle it?”

“Handle it? I’m gonna kick your ass, Byers,” she taunts back, then looks apologetically at Joyce. “Sorry for cursing.”

“Just leave the trash talking to the playfield, alright?” Joyce lifts an eyebrow and looks at all of them with a Stern Mom Face. “And no one’s going outside until I can see the floor of _all_ of your bedrooms.”

A few hours and three clean bedroom floors later, the kids are bundled up and ready to run into the snow. The steadily falling snow had slowed to random sprinkling, and El is the first to sprint down the stairs, throwing herself into the front lawn and immediately beginning to make a snow angel. Max joins her, while Jonathan and Will begin making the boundaries for the snowball fight.

“El, you’re on my team. Max- you and Will,” Jonathan says once he and Will are finished with a set of makeshift forts, set on either side of the yard. Max bounds over to Will, red hair flying out from under her hair as she settles beside Will, who offers her his hand- she smacks it with hers in a high five, offering him a grin.

“Ready to kick your brother’s butt?” she asks, and Will grins back, nodding.

“With you on my team? I can’t see us not winning,” he replies, nudging her with his shoulder, and Max flicks a bit of snow into his face, scrunching her nose up. “Come on, we have to start stockpiling snowballs. Jonathan’s _way_ too good at packing them.”

Max looks up across the way, watching Jonathan instructing El, whose face was scrunched up in concentration, tongue poking out in the corner as she rolled a bunch on snow between her gloved hands. She giggled before diving down to begin rolling her own snowballs, adding to the pile Will had started.

Neither of them are ready for the first snowball that flies over the fort wall- it glances off Will’s shoulder, and he peeks his head over the wall, glaring.

“This is war!” he yells, and Jonathan’s head pokes up, a cocky grin curling his lips.

“Well, yeah- duh!” he shouts back, and Will lobes a snowball at him, cheering when it hits Jonathan’s hat.

“Gotcha!” he cries, hearing Jonathan grumble. Max threw her own snowball, smashing it into one of the weaker spots in their fort, fist-pumping when part of it crumbled.

The next snowball wizzes past Max’s head, barely missing her ear, and she looks up just in time to see El laughing and high fiving Jonathan. Determined, Max gathers an armload of snowballs and then began unloading them in rapid succession.

“You took down the whole right side of the fort, Max- good job!” Will encouraged her, bouncing wildly on his knees before combining their last three snowballs together into a mega ball, and then with Max’s help, they fling it at the now-exposed El and Jonathan, the snow exploding on the two of them.

“Did we win?” Max turns to Will, who’s grinning at her and nodding.

“Oh, we totally won,” he replies, before he tackles her in a hug, pushing her into the snow and eliciting a laugh from her as she shoves at him, snowing getting down the back of her coat.

“Get off me, you big lug! I thought we were on the same side!”

“All’s fair in snow and war, Max,” Will shoves a handful of snow underneath her scarf and Max pushes him off of her into the snow, both of them giggling. El fell down beside Max, curling into her side as they lay breathless, watching the snowflakes float around them.

“So how’d you like your first snowball fight, Max?” Jonathan asked, kicking snow at Will, who flung a handful up at his older brother.

“Considering I won? Pretty great, actually,” she answered, grinning.

“Yeah, you won this time. There’s still a whole lot of winter left, you know,” Jonathan lifted an eyebrow, and Max rolled her eyes.

“Kids, it’s been over an hour! Come inside and get warm!” Joyce’s voice comes from the porch, and the promise of hot chocolate and a warm fire pulls them to their feet and draws them back inside, laughter spilling behind them until the door shut out the cold.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short and sickly sweet domestic Joyce/Hopper fluff!

“You know, we won’t have cookies if you keep eating the dough,” Joyce hits the back of Hopper’s hand lightly with her spoon, lifting an eyebrow. “I asked you to help me with the cookies for the bake sale, not to eat all the dough.”

“I think we both know that askin’ me was your first mistake,” Hopper replies, leaning back against the counter and swiping another finger along the edge of the bowl dough, earning himself another smack from Joyce’s spoon.

“Hop, I have about three dozen cookies to bake for the kids’ bake sale, so either help me, or get out of my kitchen,” Joyce tells him, force behind her words. “I mean it. Will and El waited until the last minute to inform me they’d both signed up, so I barely have time to get it all finished.”

“Why aren’t they helping?” Hopper asks, lifting a busy eyebrow as Joyce puts a finished tray of cookies into the oven to bake, setting the timer carefully before straightening up, checking the cookies she had cooling.

“They’re working on a history project that’s due right before break,” she answers, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead, one hand resting on her hip. “Max is the third part of their project group, they’ve been at it for days.”

She leans back against the counter, rubbing at her eyes; after a moment, she feels warm hands touch her shoulders, kneading at the muscles as lips touch her forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be helpful. What can I do?” he asks quietly, letting her sag against him and heave out a sigh, her forehead pressing against his chest.

“Help me roll dough into balls and put it on the sheet trays because my wrists hurt from the three papers I wrote to finish fall semester last week?” Joyce replies, voice muffled by his shirt, and Hopper chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he steps back, squeezing her shoulders.

“I think I can handle that,” he answers, quickly washing his hands and rolling up his sleeves.

“Okay first of all- not so big,” Joyce corrected him, giggling at the large dough ball he took from the bowl, shaking her head fondly. “We want normal size cookies, not monsters.”

She came up behind him, pressing against his back and guiding his hands, helping him form a correctly sized ball of dough and place it on the baking sheet. Joyce pressed a kiss to his shoulder and moved away when she was sure he’d gotten the hang of it, beginning to move the cooled cookies into the plastic containers for the kids to take to school in the morning.

“Good?” Hopper asks once the tray is full, and Joyce nods in approval, beaming as he puts it into the oven to bake and pulls out the tray that’s done baking, setting it on the counter to cool. “So are we done? Do we have more cookies to bake?”

“I think we’re done. Thank you, Hop,” Joyce lifted onto her toes, slipping her arms around his neck to pull him down to her level so she could kiss him properly. “All that’s left is clean up, and for the last batch to finish baking.”

“Pretty sure between the two of us we can get this place cleaned up in no time,” Hopper replies, hands skimming up her sides until he can slip them around her back, tugging her close until she was caged in his arms, their bodies pressed flush together. Joyce hummed, hands twined in his hair and lips tugging upwards in a grin, eyes half-shut in pleasure at the feeling of his body against hers.

“You know you probably need to put me down in order for us to clean, you know,” she reminds him lazily, and he snorts, holding her tighter.

“Timer still says ten minutes.”

Joyce laughs, but snuggles closer, burying her nose in his neck and letting her eyes sink fully shut. “Ten more minutes.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Hopper&El centric drabble, as requested!

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” El tentatively steps into the cabin at his words, looking around at the lights Hopper has strung along the walls.

He’d gone a little overboard- it’s his first Christmas with the kid and he knew being cooped up in the cabin wasn’t ideal for the holiday, so while she’d been with Joyce for the day, he’d decorated. Dug out the old boxes of lights and cut down a small tree, setting it up in the corner and draping it with strands of blues and pinks and reds and greens. Spheres of gold and silver and crimson reflect the lights where they’re settled among them, and he’d even found an unopened box of tinsel to throw over the tree.

“For…me?” El asks, eyes wide as she looks around the room, taking it all in. Hopper nods, smothering the smile as he watches her.

Warmth floods his chest and for the first time in too long he doesn’t stifle it; allows it fill him up, soothing the aching places that had been broken and empty for too long.

“Yeah, kid. All for you,” he answers softly, kicking his boots off and hanging his coat up before moving to stoke the fire, coaxing the flames back up. “It’s just us tonight, but Joyce and the boys will be here in the morning to celebrate with us, okay?”

El nods, excitedly bouncing on her toes as her eyes lit up.

“Pancakes?” she asks, and Hopper’s lips curl into a smile.

“Yeah, we can have pancakes tomorrow,” he replies, straightening and putting the fire poker away. “Want anything special tonight?”

El taps her chin, thinking, then looks at him expectantly.

“Joyce’s meatloaf,” she answers, and Hopper lifts an eyebrow.

“Joyce is coming tomorrow morning,” he reminds her, and she shrugs. He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Fine. Maybe she’ll grant you a Christmas miracle because you’re cute.”

El’s brow wrinkles, not understanding, and Hopper pats her head as he walks to the phone. Dialing the number he now had memorized, he listens to it ring only once before it’s picked up, a cheery voice on the other end.

“Hey, Joy. Any chance you’re having meatloaf tonight?”

Joyce gives a soft chuckle, and Hopper feels a totally different kind of warmth feel his chest.

“I made two trays just in case. Come on over.”

The call ends with a click, and El bounds over expectantly, tugging on his shirt tail. He wraps an arm around her, rolling his eyes fondly before pressing a kiss to her head.

“Merry Christmas, kid. Go put your coat back on.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is obviously past Christmas but I'm committed to finishing this little drabble adventure! So I hope you're ready for some Christmas-y ficlets over the next week!

“I cannot believe this is how we’re spending our anniversary,” Joyce says, shivering under the thick afghan on the couch in the rent cabin upstate. Hopper looked at her apologetically, shifting the phone to hold it between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, babe. They told me the heating would have been running for hours by the time we got here,” he tells her, fighting off a shiver of his own at the temperature.

For their third wedding anniversary Hopper had rented a cabin nestled in the woods, near a picturesque lake just outside a small, snowy town about an hour outside Chicago. The kids were all more than capable of taking care of themselves for a week, and they both needed a break. So they’d packed a suitcase, taken the time off work, and taken the Blazer on a road trip.

But upon arriving at what should have been a warm, fully stocked cabin, they’d opened the door to frigid air and no supplies. Hopper had immediately gotten on the phone to try to sort out the mess while Joyce curled up under blankets in an attempt to keep warm.

“Not until Monday? That’s the whole weekend! We have no heat!” Hopper says when the woman gets back on the phone, irritation in his tone. “Fine. First thing Monday.”

He hangs up the phone angrily, blowing his breath out sharply and gripping the counter before straightening up. Joyce is arching an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for him.

“No one can come fix anything until Monday morning. We can drive into town, get some firework and start a fire- should warm the place up, and we can buy some food and supplies, lady said they’ll reimburse us for whatever we get. There’s extra blankets in the hall closet.”

“We don’t need extra blankets,” Joyce said, lifting one hand from beneath the blanket and crooking a finger to beckon him to her. “I have a few ideas to warm us up.”

A smirk curls Hopper’s lips, and he toes out of his boots before he climbs onto the couch, lifting a corner of the blanket so he can crawl underneath and nestle into Joyce’s side, pressing a kiss to her exposed, cold neck.

“I am all ears for these ideas,” he murmurs, trailing his mouth up to her jaw. He grinned when he pulled a gasp from her, one of her hands coming up to twine in the hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m thinking you,” she starts, humming as he tugged ear earlobe between his teeth. “And me, and that big bed we only glimpsed earlier.”

“Oh, a bed, you say?” he asks, slipping his fingers under the hem of her sweater, enjoying the way she shivered at the press of his cold skin. Joyce nods, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she cocked her head, teasing in her eyes.

“Yeah, you know the thing with sheets, and pillows, and blankets…” she trails off, leaning forward until she can brush her lips over his, lingering in his space. He swallows hard, tensing slightly under her touch, and she giggled, closing the distance between them fully. “Come on, Chief. Warm a girl up.”

She gasps, ending on a laugh when Hopper lifts her up in his arms, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he carries her down the hall; the door slams shut with a kick of his foot, sealing in the laughter behind them.


End file.
